Archives: Charges Dropped

Society is extremely critical of the extraordinary means women are going (forced) to and will continue to go, to report, register in the social ledger and consciousness of man, their experience with rape culture, rape and sexual violence(s).

Black women whose entire existence in the U.S. has denied their agency, and determination, against their own will to exist in spite of…

Black women around the world, Afro Latinx, Haitian, across the African continent in white societies under colonial and neocolonial, or non-Black rule, as well as the rest of the continent– North, West, East, South Africa and surrounding islands.

It’s true of women everywhere.

Victim medical report: Signs of fistula. Broken spine.

Not guilty.

Rape loop hole laws.

Rape laws to protect institutions.

Rape laws to protect legacies.

Criminal law to protect law enforcement for not processing rape kits. The city cannot be sued. The mayor cannot be sued. The president cannot be impeached. The military junta cannot be touched. The deity is too ethereal to be charged.

Charges dropped.

Rape in conflict. The arms that armed the militias of children were purchased from Israel, India, the United States, Canada, China. The editorial dropped. Charges dropped.

It was funded by multinationals to protect ancestral rivers purchased through foreign direct investments, who didn’t care what the men they armed to protect their foreign investments did when young girls went to their rivers to bathe, to wash their clothes, to cross to get to school. The same multinational Holds Up Half the Sky. The same multinationals pays for the school.

The same editorial pays for your news.

Editorial dropped. #TimeToSlack

Women in Kashmir between pellets and potential.

Women of Palestine crossing check points.

Indigenous women of the Gurung.

Kamlari

Malawi

Dadaab refugee camp, because honestly, who is looking?

Individually displaced.

Chittagong Hill Tracts.

Was she covered?

Uncovered?

Asexual.

Early to class.

Late to class?

Athlete

Did she try to fight back?

Zaghawa tribe.

What clan did she belong to?

Light skinned or dark?

Cause like Pac said “both Black and white are getting…”
tonight.

Sober or intoxicated?

The CTV footage shows her walking into the building with him.

Brooklyn.

Southside.

Because rape doesn’t ask if you’re on the spectrum.

Street harassers don’t ask if you took your depression medication.

Leering fixated eyes, imposing eyes don’t offer trigger warnings.

Anti-anxiety meds.

Did she have a tattoo?

Did she leave her post?

Did she report it to her commanding officer.

But she was a sex worker.

It’s true of women being sexually harassed across the latitudes of the neoliberal exploitation zones, bisected by Western economic market imperialism.

It’s true of women in boardrooms.

It’s true of women in government positions.

Sleeping on streets.

So, you men, you who critique the “how” instead of the “who.”

You men who critique the where, the when.

You men who are the institution, with your institutional thinking.

I remind you, from the superstructures of empires of colonialism, deprivation, genocide, ethnic cleansing, architects of racial divisions, turning people against one another and on top of one another.

I remind you, that before there was a Europe, there was rape.

I remind you men from every corner, position and disposition of privilege and experience.

In liberal, conservative, right and left spheres, across the spectrum class stratus, melanin deficient who have pilfered and profited as doer, as witness, that it was one of your own who said, “Those who make peaceful revolution impossible…”

“Because there is no such thing as a bloodless revolution.”

Eons of histories are a long time for revolutionary eggs to germinate.

Annals of oppression make shoulders strong.

When the lines between us are cleared, there will still be one line in the sand.

So maybe instead of spending your time critiquing, you better get to undoing, before a new chapter in history archives your existence.

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Published by postheatre

Price of Silence is a grass roots performing arts collective which brings to life the global struggle for women's rights on stage for audiences to experience both the violence and resistance of women from all walks of life and cultures, to celebrate our differences, while building a chorus of voices in every language demanding an end to physical and structural violence.
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